


Don't Write Checks You're Not Prepared to Cash

by hurdlelocker



Category: Fallout (Video Games), Fallout 4
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Angry Kissing, Enemies to Lovers, First Kiss, First Time, M/M, One Shot, Oral Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn with Feelings, Rare Pairings, Shameless Smut, Smut, Unexpected Emotions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-02
Updated: 2020-07-02
Packaged: 2021-03-04 22:41:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,762
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25024069
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hurdlelocker/pseuds/hurdlelocker
Summary: The Sole Survivor is tired of their companions' constant fighting and lays down the order that they need to get over themselvesor else. Can the Railroad's Top Agent and the Commonwealth's Best Sniper find common ground? Or was that challenge more than they were prepared to handle?
Relationships: Deacon/Robert Joseph MacCready
Comments: 11
Kudos: 66





	Don't Write Checks You're Not Prepared to Cash

**Author's Note:**

> This was inspired by this lovely comic by **litchkitty** on Tumblr: <https://litchkitty.tumblr.com/post/617493016938217472/here-have-a-joke-ive-spent-too-long-on-already>
> 
> And, as always, a massive thank you to **electricshoebox** for beta-reading and coaching me through this every step of the way!

The Sole Survivor and Deacon walked into Hangman’s Alley, fresh off a mission for the Railroad. MacCready was waiting for them, ready to go scout out a nest of Raiders the settlers at Oberland Station had complained about over the radio. They updated their companions on the game plan, then began fiddling with the coordinates in their Pip-Boy until they overheard the two men bickering.

“Still killing people for caps, MacCready?”

“I dunno, you still pretending to be anyone other than yourself?”

Sole’s head popped up from their screen.

“At least I—” Deacon started to say before Sole stepped between the two men, arms outstretched.

“ENOUGH!” they bellowed. “You two have been at it for weeks. You’re both benched until you can behave like adults.”

Deacon sputtered in protest. MacCready just gaped. Sole folded their arms and shook their head.

“I mean it. Figure this out.” Then they walked away, calling, “Hey, Valentine…”

The spy and the sharpshooter glowered at each other. Deacon’s anger was only visible in the taut lines of his shoulders and crossed arms; MacCready’s anger was as clear as the bright red flush coloring his face.

MacCready started to stomp off to his apartment to put away his gear when Deacon said, “That’s right, go cry in your room about being left behind.”

MacCready wheeled around, face purpling, and shouted, “You know what, Deacon? Go fuck yourself.”

An evil grin spread over Deacon’s face. He leaned back on the railing and looked over his sunglasses at MacCready. “Fuck me yourself, coward.”

MacCready froze. Then he straightened his back and took two long strides back over to where Deacon was standing. He stomped close enough to see Deacon’s eyes through the sunglasses. Close enough that Deacon couldn’t avoid making eye contact.

“Fine.”

Deacon started with surprise. “I’m sorry, what?”

“I said, ‘Fine.’’’ Then, refusing to elaborate further, MacCready stepped away and grabbed Deacon’s wrist in a vise-like grip, pulling him in the direction of his apartment.

Stumbling a little, Deacon followed without resisting. He was still too stunned to believe that this was real. Sure, he’d thought about fucking Mac (or being fucked by him, whichever), but he’d never actually thought it would happen. Let alone under circumstances like this. Hell, from anything he’d seen, the anger and dislike radiating off the younger man since Sole told them they were swapping was truly genuine. 

And it’s not like Deacon didn’t deserve it. Beyond his usual self-loathing and shitty remarks to the merc, Deacon was an asshole to all of Sole’s companions — even the dog, come to think of it. Shit. Well, add another tally to the “scum” count.

Deacon was so lost in thought that it took the slamming of the apartment door to snap him back into the present. Warily, he looked at MacCready. The younger man glared back, but there was a different heat to the look now. They held the stare until MacCready finally looked away to properly hang up his rifle. 

Deacon barely had time to start considering leaving when MacCready was right back in front of him. With mere inches between their faces, Deacon could see every freckle dusting the sniper’s face, could see how dark the bright blue eyes were with anger and… something Deacon couldn’t yet admit he hoped was there. His eyes lingered on the chapped lips, slightly parted, the quick pink tongue darting out to moisten, close enough to…

His mind went blank at the sudden, unexpected, but certainly not unwanted, pressure. It was a simple kiss, easily broken; but Deacon wanted more. Before MacCready could pull away, Deacon parted his lips, tongue greeting MacCready’s, while one hand tangled itself in the hair at the nape of MacCready’s neck. With a surprised grunt, MacCready parted his lips and leaned into the pressure, his hands finding purchase on the prominent vee of Deacon’s hips. 

The touch sent a shiver down Deacon’s spine and suddenly a long dormant lion of  _ want _ roared in his chest. The hand not holding tightly to the light brown curls snaked its way around layers of duster and armor and pulled MacCready closer, removing what little space had remained between them. Deacon smiled into the kiss as MacCready ground into him, feeling himself harden to match the pressure from MacCready’s body. 

_ More… _ Deacon wanted,  _ needed  _ more. The hand on MacCready’s neck moved up, snatching away the stupid green hat he always wore. Deacon carded his long fingers through the knots of hat-flattened hair, grinning as he felt a shiver go through MacCready’s lean body. 

Breaking the kiss, Deacon began to trail smaller kisses along the stubble on MacCready’s jawline, lingering at the juncture of jaw and neck. He moved the hand in MacCready’s hair down to remove the scarf hindering his access to MacCready’s collarbone. 

As Deacon kissed and sucked his way down MacCready’s neck, the sniper shrugged out of his ragged, one-armed duster, letting it fall to the floor as he curled against Deacon’s body with a moan. Encouraged by the sound of the coat crumpling to the floor, they separated, and their hands began frantically removing the armor MacCready had strapped on for his now-aborted scouting mission with Sole.

With the hat, scarf, duster, and armor removed, Deacon couldn’t believe how many layers of clothing still lay between him and MacCready. Frustrated, he yanked roughly at the collars and, with a clatter, the buttons from MacCready’s damnable shirts flew off, pinging around the apartment. The fiery glare Deacon had already grown to adore returned, and Deacon smiled back, saying cheekily, “I’ll fix that later.”

“Fuck yeah you will,” MacCready said, more breathlessly than intended — like he wanted to sound indignant but could only manage aroused.

This just made Deacon’s shit-eating grin widen. He leaned in and, planting kisses down MacCready’s neck, said, “Tsk, tsk, that’s a cap in the cap jar, killer.”

MacCready groaned in frustration and arousal. “Fuck you.”

“Isn’t that what we’re getting to?”

An almost feral grin spread across MacCready’s face at the reminder of  _ who _ started this and he leaned up to crash their lips together into a searing kiss, all while pulling Deacon down the hall to his bedroom. It was a miracle they didn’t trip on the clothes and armor strewn about the floor. 

Deacon got impatient halfway to the bedroom and as they neared the bedroom door, he practically lifted MacCready off his feet and slammed him against the wall. He’d been straining against his jeans for so long he had to do  _ something _ , and he could tell MacCready was equally tormented. 

Shaking slightly with arousal, Deacon ghosted his mouth along the curve of MacCready’s neck, tasting the hollow of his collarbone. He ran his hands up along MacCready’s sides under his t-shirt, tracing the defined muscles until he reached hardened nipples.  _ Fuck… _ Deacon thought,  _ he’s so fucking hot… _

His right hand traced around MacCready’s chest while his left worked its way down to the waistband of MacCready’s tattered pants. The belt that secured his duster was gone, but Deacon groaned with a little irritation when he found a second belt waiting.

“Fuck, man, you’re really making me work for this aren’t you?” Deacon breathed as he cupped him through the fabric. MacCready answered with only a small moan and a minute thrust forward into Deacon’s touch. Deacon continued his progress down MacCready’s torso, deftly unbuckling the belt at his waist, along with the ammo pouch and ammo belts around MacCready’s thighs as he sank to his knees.

Tugging down MacCready’s pants just enough to free his prize, Deacon barely restrained himself from just diving forward and taking him into his mouth. MacCready’s dick was hard and already leaking; Deacon licked his lips with anticipation and glanced up at MacCready. The undisguised  _ want _ in the sniper’s eyes frayed Deacon’s self-control further.

Gently, Deacon moved forward and licked along the length of MacCready’s shaft, lingering at first on the beads of precum leaking from the slit. MacCready gripped Deacon’s shoulders tightly and twitched in an effort not to thrust as Deacon wrapped his lips around the head, sucking decorously. Humming a little, he tasted, twirled, and sucked his way along, stroking the soft, smooth skin in a steady rhythm. MacCready’s grip tightened to a bruising pressure as little moans escaped his lips. Deacon risked another glance up. If it weren’t for the fact that he was kneeling on a hard floor, the look on MacCready’s face—bottom lip bitten, eyes screwed up tight—would have been enough to get Deacon to abandon all the build-up, pull him down, and just fuck him right there on the floor. As it was, seeing MacCready’s face tight with  _ lust _ for him instead of  _ anger _ was enough to destroy any remaining control Deacon possessed as he relaxed his throat and swallowed MacCready down to the root.

With a gasp and a reflexive thrust, MacCready looked down at Deacon, and, groaning but smirking, said, “Don’t do too much of that or we might not make it to the bed.”

Deacon smiled around MacCready’s dick and slowly sucked, tasted, and swirled his way off before tucking Mac’s dick back in his boxers (just to keep it safe from the zipper of his pants). He rose to kiss away the smirk on the sniper’s handsome face.

MacCready pushed off of the wall, guiding Deacon through the hall to the bedroom as they kissed. They paused momentarily to step out of their shoes, but once the ties were loosened, they hungrily fell back onto each other’s mouths. A needy moan escaped from Deacon’s throat before he could stop it, but it just made MacCready grip him tighter, nibbling on Deacon’s lower lip.

Deacon brought his hands up MacCready’s torso, trailing over his nipples once again. He was  _ so _ tempted to rip MacCready out of his t-shirt, but the thought was interrupted before he could decide as MacCready pushed him down to sit on the edge of the bed.

As he sat, he reached over his head and pulled off his t-shirt, skillfully keeping his sunglasses in place as he did. MacCready raised an eyebrow at this but didn’t say anything, choosing instead to just pull off his own t-shirt and his pants before pushing Deacon flat onto the bed. MacCready crawled up along Deacon’s legs and cupped Deacon’s dick through the denim of his jeans. Deacon barely stopped himself from bucking into the light pressure but saw a smirking grin ghost onto MacCready’s smug, swollen lips as his dick twitched anyway. MacCready leaned forward, and, as he undid the button and zipper on Deacon’s jeans, ghosted light kisses along the faint ginger hair trailing from Deacon’s navel. As he worked his way downward, he slid Deacon’s jeans off his hips. He lingered momentarily over Deacon’s dick, placing almost reverent kisses along the (still damnably covered) shaft, before sitting up and hooking his fingers under the waistband and pulling off both boxers and jeans.

Deacon sat back up and pulled off MacCready’s boxers in response, feeling a surge of accomplishment.  _ Finally! Got him out of those fucking layers. _ As MacCready stepped out of his underwear, Deacon kept his hands on the sniper’s hips, enjoying the feeling of the sharp hipbones under his palms as he drank in the view before him. 

Deacon’s eyes lazily scanned up MacCready’s torso, a grin unconsciously forcing its way onto his face.  _ Fuck, even if arguing all the time keeps being a thing, maybe it’s worth it to get this. _ His gaze settled on MacCready’s shoulders and, as he appreciated the subtle bulk built up from years of rifle handling, he noticed a slight tension that hadn’t been there before. He shifted his eyes to observe MacCready worrying his lip slightly and realized,  _ Shit, the poor kid is nervous. _

“So, you gonna fuck me or what?” Deacon asked over his shades, trying not to sound too eager or pushy, but making it clear that he  _ wants _ this and that he wants  _ MacCready _ to give it to him. MacCready’s near-feral grin returned and he straightened his back, confidence returning, as he leaned over to the bedside table and grabbed a small container of lube. Deacon grinned at the show of renewed confidence.

Unscrewing the cap, MacCready poured out a generous amount and ran his hands over his penis and Deacon’s before gently pressing one slick finger against Deacon’s hole.

“Fuuu… oh, fuck, Mac, yes…” Deacon gasped, greedy for more. “I needed those sexy hands on me, like, yesterday.”

“Yeah? You like that?” MacCready rasped.

Deacon just moaned in response as MacCready inserted a second finger inside him. He writhed in pleasure as MacCready’s long fingers skillfully worked him open. Every nerve in his body was singing at the touch. He’d imagined MacCready’s hands all over him for longer than he cared to admit; since the first time he noticed the smooth, controlled movements of his fingers as he reloaded his rifle. But the actual sensation of those gorgeous fingers moving in and out of him far exceeded anything he could have imagined. 

At that thought, MacCready brushed that perfect spot deep inside, and Deacon cried out, “Oh,  _ FUCK YES _ , killer. I need your cock inside me now, I’m not gonna make it much longer.”

With that feral grin that Deacon was increasingly finding annoyingly sexy, MacCready removed his fingers, leaving Deacon feeling empty. The momentary disappointment at the loss of touch was enough for Deacon to come back from the edge. The mix of relief and disappointment was quickly washed away as MacCready lined up and eased forward into him, gripping his hips like a lifeline.

It was like time stopped and the world melted away, leaving only them and this shitty apartment and whatever this new  _ thing _ was that was forming between them. Deacon’s mind, usually racing with anxiety about the different ways the Institute might destroy everything he’d worked for over the years, was blank save for the blue eyes locked on his sunglasses, filled with more desire and  _ care _ (?!) than had been directed at him since… well, since a long time ago. 

“Fuck, you feel so fucking good, Deacon,” MacCready breathed as he began to thrust slowly—too slowly. Deacon wrapped a long leg around MacCready’s back and pulled him closer, deeper. As MacCready responded to the pull, he leaned forward enough that Deacon could bite into the meat of his shoulder, then soothing the bite with his tongue, making MacCready hiss in pleasure. 

They had found a rhythm so easily, it was ridiculous that they hadn’t done this sooner.

“Fuck… need you…” Deacon gasped out as MacCready snapped his hips, hitting his prostate with the movement.

“Yeah? What do you need, D?”

“ _ You _ .” The desire blazing in MacCready's eyes intensified as they met in a heated kiss, Deacon guiding one of MacCready’s hands to his aching, leaking cock. Calloused fingers sent sparks through Deacon’s body as each stroke of his cock matched the rhythm of their thrusts. Their tongues tumbled around each other, tasting and reveling in each other.

His mind was back to the heady, blank place where nothing existed but MacCready’s touch, MacCready’s eyes. As their bodies rocked against each other, he vaguely felt his sunglasses fall back to the top of his head, but found himself not caring. 

“Fuck… gonna cum…” MacCready panted, his thrusts becoming erratic. 

Deacon tightened his grip on MacCready’s neck and rasped, “I’m right behind you, baby.”

At the term of endearment, MacCready’s hips tensed as he toppled over the edge and his eyes flashed open and locked onto Deacon’s. Surprise darted through his expression at seeing the spy’s eyes unmasked for the first time, followed by affection. It’s that clear, genuine affection directed at  _ him _ for the first time in years that sends Deacon following right after MacCready.

With a heavy exhale, MacCready collapsed onto Deacon’s chest. They laid like that for a few minutes, as their breathing slowed. Deacon looked down at the nest of fluffy brown hair resting on his sternum. Maybe it was just the post-coital glow, but he suspected that that had only unlocked… 

“Fuck. I think I’m in love.”

“Damn right you are, bitch,” grumbled MacCready sleepily.

To Deacon’s surprise, his automatic reaction wasn’t to fight, deny, or run. Instead, he simply smiled at the grumpily satisfied face of Robert Joseph MacCready, reformed mercenary, and said, “Dude, caps into the swear jar.”

Lifting his head up just enough to glare at Deacon’s shit-eating grin, MacCready leaned forward and said, “Worth it,” before kissing the offending grin away.

**Author's Note:**

> You can find me on Tumblr as **molliehaswords** if you want to join me in being crazy about these two idiots.
> 
> Thank you for reading! <3


End file.
